A Fictional Fact
by ReSesiTe
Summary: Onya wants more than her present life can give. But with an unexpected visitor from Hogwarts lands in her fireplace, the surprise could be just what she's been needing.
1. Default Chapter

Onyalyzah, dispite the fancy and rather difficult name, was an average girl. She liked to hang out with friends, and go to the mall just like any other kid. The routine was dismal though. Though happy, Onya secretly longed for adventure. How to get it was the trick. Going to a motorcycle club with her friend Josph, or the 15th annual cook-out with her earth-friendly pal Susan, was hardly what she called fun.  
She walked slowly and dreamily down the school halls, wishing nothing more than for someone to come take her away. She dreamt about famous people mostly. Oh, what she would give to have some famous beau show up to one of her classes and request her right infront of everyone. She sighed heavily and continued to her class.  
"...you must have this charted by Friday..." droaned the teacher inbetween Onya's daydreams. The time flew by when she just zoned everything out. Everyone of her friends was so stressed out about school work, when Onya just tuned the world out, only to live in her delusions. She didn't even seem to mind missing out on the latest gossip, or who liked who anymore. It was as though her fantasies were overpowering her mind and body. She needed something new.   
The snow was finally melting from the ground, which made it easier for Onya's walk home. She walked quickly, but with much thought.  
When she arrived at the front steps to her beautiful purple and while victorian house on the corner, the mail was just arriving. "Afternoon Onya. How was school today?" asked the Postman. "Oh, it was the usual." she replied. "Work hard for those 'A's." He said as he headed to the next house. "I will" said Onya, walking in the door and locking it behind her.   
She set the mail on a little table by the stairs. She dropped her backpack next to it, and flopped onto the couch. As she looked at the TV, she watched the pictures that her mind created. The stories in her brain were cooking up a storm. Everymoment becoming more egzadurated than the last.  
Suddenly the phone rang. She rolled her eyes, got up to answered it.  
"Onya, its me." said the voice. "Oh, hey mom" said Onya. "I have to work late tonight, and since I'm all the way in Brattford, I'm just going to stay with your aunt tonight. Alright?" said her mother in a very busy tone. "Okay mom" replied Onya in a sort of automatic way. "Make sure to lock the doors and turn off the lights before you go to bed. There should also be some lunch meat in the fridge if you want to make a sandwich for dinner." her mother continued. "Alright mom. Goodnight" said Onya looking in the bare refridgerator. "Goodnight sweetie. I love you" replied her mother. "love you too." said Onya, and hung up.  
Onya picked up the phone immediately after that, and dialed. "Hello?" asked a voice. "Is Tyla there?" asked Onya. "Yeah, hey On. What's up?" asked Tyla. Tyla was the best friend Onya had ever had. She was in the same year as her, and liked daydreaming about superstars almost as much. Tyla was beautiful though. Onya had never been looked at as strikingly beautiful. In fact, she'd never been called 'pretty' by anyone but her mother. Tyla on the other hand could be a model. She had perfect, smooth dark skin, honey-gold eyes, and a whole head of highlighted curls. But what Onya loved most about Tyla was how fun she was on sleepovers. "My mom won't be here tonight. We should totally have a party or something" Onya explained. "Whoo! Party of two! Aren't WE queens of popularity!" Tyla said sarcastically. "So, can you come?" asked Onya while pulling out a box of pasta from the cupboard. "I can't," said Tyla sadly. "Dad said I have to stay in and get this homework done."   
"But its Spring Break! You can do it later!" Onya said, offended by her statement. "I know, On. I can't do it though. Maybe I can Sunday." said Tyla hopefully. "Alright," said Onya, dumping the pasta into boiling water. "I'll call you Sunday."   
"Alright. See you then." said Tyla, and hung up.  
Onya stirred the pasta around then sat at the table to wait for it to cook. She didn't mind being alone when her mother wasn't home, but it was a whole lot more fun when someone was around to share the freedom. She looked around the table and spotted her favorite book. She had read the four books that were so far released in the seven set series. When she read about Harry and his adventures, she wanted them to go on forever. She wanted to hear more. What happened when he got home from school? What happened in the next year? She wanted to be IN the story. Thats what she daydreamed about sometimes. Being there at Hogwarts as a wizard. Being able to cast spells on Cheri, a snotty girl from school, who always tried to demine her. She mostly dreamt about Harry though. Harry was so cool and mellow. He didn't let anything phase him.   
Things changed when they made a movie about the books. Onya no longer imagined what Harry looked like aside from the illustrations on the book covers. Now she had actors infront of her for her to see. She quickly, like so many other girls, became attracted to the star. The boy who played the roll of Harry Potter.   
Onya thoughts were interrupted when she heard water spilling from the pot of pasta to the burner below. Spattering and hissing as it burnt into steam.  
She ran to the stove, removed the pot and drained her pasta.   
Onya wasn't about to settle for a sandwich. She made her own sauce from various seasonings and oils. She had watched her mother cook for years, and observed everything she did. Her mother was proud that she took such an interest in something she concidered would "offer her a future", but Onya hadn't really concidered being a cook. She didn't object to the thought, but she was afterall, still young, and had plenty of time to think about it.  
She settled herself at the diningroom table which was decorated with a dark green tablecloth and two silver candleholders covered in green and white wax. After she finished her plate, she set it in the kitchen sink and headed to her room, grabbing her book from the table as she passed.  
Onya's room was large and open. Though she had many pieces of furnature: two dressers, a vanity with a large oval mirror, a entertainment center with a television, DVD player, and sterio, a rack with all her movies proped on, and her king-sized bed, there was still a nice open area in the center of the room where a flowered, light blue rug lay. Onya loved to watch movies. It was her way of taking a vacation from everyday life. She had never really cared for reading, until she read about the wizard that went from nothing to something in a couple of chapters.  
She lay on her stomach with her arms proping her head up, and opened the book to her bookmarked page halfway through. Every now and again she smiled at a funny comment, or a daring escape. She felt cool water lightly start to drip onto her legs. The window was open and a light, fresh rain was begining to fall. She hopped up on the bed and closed the windows above, then returned to her book. Before she knew it, she was soundly asleep with her face smushed against the pages of her book.  
Thunder lightly rumbled the house every few seconds, making it aparent that the storm was lingering in its prime over her neighborhood. The clock in the hall chimed twice, and the old stairs creaked as usual from the wind creeping through the old walls and window fixtures. The trees jerked more violently as the time passed, everynow and again tapping the sides of the house then retorting back to its natural positioning.  
Onya lifted a lazy eyelid, reached a hand over to her desk lamp and clicked it off before dozing again. A rather unusual sound came from the first floor. Onya, half asleep, payed little attention to it before rolling over. She was no stranger to random noises in this house. However the sound changed. It was more of a thumping noise now. Onya reached over to turn back on her lamp, but no light came. She clicked it several times before getting up and trying to turn on her overhead fan light. It too did not turn on. "Aw shit. The power went off." said Onya irritated. She opened one of her dresser drawers and pulled out a long candle from a box. She placed it into one of her old candleholders, lit it, and headed downstairs.  
The sound was a little unnerving. Onya didn't like the sounds. thumping like something stuck. She looked around groggily, half thinking she was still asleep, towards the source of the sound. It was coming from the fireplace.   
She shuttered slightly. What could possibly be in the fireplace?   
"Hello?" she asked, not expecting an answer. The thumping stopped, but there was also no reply. "Are you a bird? Are you caught in the fireplace again?" she asked approaching the fireplace cautiously, as not to get whacked in the face with a wild raven caught in the chimney. There was noises of struggling as Onya got closer, waving the ash and soot clouding the air around the mantle. "I can get you out of there," she continued, holding the candle a full arms-length infront of her face, "let me just grab a towel.". She walked to a closet by the bathroom, and grabbed an old towel used to clean the bathtub. She walked back to the fire place, candle in one hand, and the towel layed open on her palm so she could just grab the bird and carry it to the window to be released again.   
"Where are you, you little bugger?" she asked. She walked slowly closer and closer to the fireplace until she was basically standing inside it. "Alright, I'm coming in. I don't see you..." she said looking around with the candle now an inch from her face. "But I..." she stopped. She could see a faint figure infront of her. It appeared to be something big... something standing or perhaps propped up in the very back of the fireplace. She stared at the figure at knee high length following it up to her height. She drew in a short, startled breath, and looked striaght into two very distinct blue eyes. Onya let out a scream that could've woke the dead, or at least the neighbors. She stumbled backwards, tripping on her pajama bottoms and finally passing out cold on the hard wood floors. 


	2. You're Who?

Onya had no concept of just how long she had been passed out, but by the time her eyes slowly peeled open, the sun was just begining to peak out over the houses. She sat up and massaged her neck. She looked around at the livingroom, not recalling why she had gone to sleep in her bed, and was now on the floor. "Ugh. I walked in my sleep again." she said heaving herself up with the assistance of the couch armrest.  
The house looked normal when she stood. The clock ticked calmly to a nice steady rhythm. She sighed and turned to ascend the stairs, when the rhythm changed. She heard extra ticks. Surely the clock was not capable of adding random beats. She whipped around and was suddenly overburdened with the rememberance of the events that took place the previous evening. The strirred ash now lay, making a thick gray carpet around the fireplace. She clutched onto a nearby beam, and watched the entry of the fireplace with horror. There was a person in her fireplace last night, and whoever it was, is surely still there now. Onya didn't make another sound. She only gripped the beam tightly until her knuckles turned white.   
The person was tapping around at the bricks, and muttering words that only came out as gibberish. Every now and then a spark would flash, and Onya would flinch, but she dare not make a peep. She looked behind her and seized a brass lamp base. She crept into the livingroom, making a point not to step where the wood usually creeked. As she got closer, she could have sworn she heard the name "Wong", and perhaps a few "hello?"'s.   
She raised the brass lamp over her head, ready to bang the head of the intruder. "Alright you scum-bag! Get out of my fireplace now, or I'll beat you senseless!" She howled, arms shaking from the lamps' weight.   
"Wait! No, please!" said a panicked voice. "I didn't mean to come to your fireplace," the voice continued. The person speaking was obviously young, and male. Onya held the brass lamp determinedly, ready to strike. She trembled and stumbled backwards as the boy from the fireplace made his way slowly out, showing that he had nothing in his hands but a thin sliver of wood.   
"Drop your stick!" screamed Onya. The boy did what she asked and dropped it. It clicked lightly against the ash covered floor, and the boy showed his empty hands.   
"Please, if you could just tell me how to get back," the boy started.   
"Show yourself!" Onya demanded, now holding the lamp as if it were a baseball bat about to be swung over her shoulder.  
The boy slipped a little on the slippery ash and wood. Onya could see the boy was wearing what would be a black, but now covered in gray ash, cloak. She could see his black shoes, and black pants, and his red sweater only peaking through his cloak around his wrists. He had dark hair, and she could make out small, broken glasses on his face.  
Onya gasped and fell backwards onto the floor. The brass lamp rolled along the floor and hit the coffee table. She clutched the base of her neck, desperately trying to slow her breathing.   
"But... you're... you're..." she stuttered. "Er.." said the boy. "But I can't be!" said Onya, flaberghasted. "You're a... a..." she looked around the room, thinking maybe she wasn't in her house. She could have been taken somewhere while she was unconcious. Thats it! She shook the unlikely thoughts from her mind and focused in on the boy again.   
The boy cleared his throat uneasily, and said"Yeah, I'm H-"   
"You're Daniel Radcliffe." said Onya, now looking thouroughly amazed that a famous person was meddling in HER fireplace.   
"Um, no... I'm sorry, you have me confused with someone else." said the boy. "What?" said Onya, standing and wiping the ash from her pajama bottoms. She walked cautiously to him, as if he were a holigram bound to disapear at any moment.   
"My name's not Daniel." said the boy. Onya laughed a little. "Oh, right. So then, who are you if you're not Daniel?" she asked sarcastically.  
"I'm Harry. Harry Potter." said the boy.  
They both stood silent for a moment. Then Onya bust out laughing. Harry stared at her, obviously not getting the joke she got.  
"Oh, okay. Then, if you're Harry, I suppose you have the 'lightning shaped scar', right?" she said between laughs.  
"Er, yes. I do actually." said Harry. Onya stopped laughing but kept her smile. "Okay then. Show me." she said with her hands on her hips.   
Harry shrugged and held back the hair that covered his forehead. Onya steped in closer to take a look. Sure enough, there was a scar dancing down his forehead to resemble the shape of a lightning bolt.   
"Heh, nice make-up job you had done there. It almost looks real in person too." she said, still not giving in to his roll-playing.   
"Make-up job?" asked Harry. "Yeah, you know. When you're on your big expensive sets. They put all that fancy make-up on you. Give you the fake scar, and you get 'channeled' when there's going to be danger from Lord Voldemort." she spouted effortlessly, crossing her arms.  
"Y, you know about Lord Voldemort?" Harry asked amazed, walking closer to Onya. "Oh sure I do. Everyone does, don't they?" she replied. Harry shook his head. "Well... wizards do..." he started. "Oh yes, but I'm a 'muggle' so I wouldn't know about Hogwarts and all that junk, right?" she said effortless again. Harry didn't say anything. He looked around the house, back at the fireplace, and then at Onya who had gone to pick up the brass lamp and put it back on its table. He followed her to the table, looked at her and had the look of just realizing something.   
"What is it?" she asked, getting a good look at his expression. "You don't believe me, do you?" asked Harry. Onya sighed. "You're still on about being Harry Potter? Alright, alright. I'll bite. You're Harry. Now what?" she asked tiredly. Harry didn't respond. He simply took Onya's hand, and placed it on his forehead so that her fingertips were touching his scar. She gasped, and her eyes widened. Harry held her by her wrist, as she slowly ran her fingers over the scar.   
"That's a... a.." she said searching for the words that lingered on the tip of her tongue. "A really good make-up job." said Harry. 


End file.
